


A Lesson in Tactical Defense by Walter Skinner (or Fox Mulder Asks a Favor)

by secondsflat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Humor, Never again, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondsflat/pseuds/secondsflat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of <i>Never Again</i>, Skinner receives a request from Agent Mulder regarding Scully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Tactical Defense by Walter Skinner (or Fox Mulder Asks a Favor)

Walter Skinner was a cautious man.

When it came down to bare basics, Vietnam had left in him a penchant for methodical planning, abhorrence for flying insects and surprises, and roughly three fragments of shrapnel in his left shoulder.

His role in supervising the activity of the X-Files division-- an arguably more arduous task by most accounts-- tended to leave him with nothing more than migraines and enemies, occasionally those of the hard-to-explain-in-an-official-report variety. And so, Skinner was cautious. Most of the time.

Contrary to popular belief, he _liked_ Fox Mulder. He was a passionate and devoted agent when he wasn’t pissing people off and was even kind of an okay guy outside of work, if a little quirky (not that Skinner had much reason to associate with Mulder outside of work. He amused himself for a moment, imagining the two of them in beat-up lawn chairs with matching zinc oxide noses and green bucket hats, surrounded by empty beer cans, discarded fishing lures, and an endless expanse of brown lake water. The daydream ended abruptly when Mulder reeled in what looked suspiciously like the Loch Ness Monster, and Skinner sighed resignedly).

Come to think of it, did Mulder even _have_ a life outside of work?

He probably did, lucky bastard. Over ten years in the F.B.I. and all Skinner’s personal life had to show for it was a rocky marriage and a dead prostitute-slash-guardian angel. Not that he was bitter or anything.

Skinner rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. That was neither here nor there. At the very least, Mulder certainly knew how to keep things lively around the office for him. Excessive caution could only get you so far in a job like theirs, after all, and sometimes even all the caution in the world couldn’t prevent you from getting shot over coffee.

And it wasn’t even good coffee.

A soft knock on the door brought him back to the present. Kimberly peeked her head around the frame. “Sir? Agent Mulder is here to see you. Is now a good time?”  


Speak of the F.B.I.’s number-one headache and he shall appear. Skinner considered telling Kimberly no, that now was not a good time, but he could clearly see Mulder behind her trying to look through the crack she had opened. To her benefit, she was trying to angle her body to block more of the view, but Mulder had probably six inches of height advantage. 

They made eye contact over Kimberly’s head. 

Mulder smiled amicably and raised his eyebrows. 

Skinner suddenly empathized with Agent Scully.

“Come in, Mulder.” He sighed. “Close the door behind you.”

He was barely inside the room before he started talking. “Sir, I have a favor to ask.”

Now, Skinner generally liked to think of himself as a pretty steely guy. Not aloof, not unapproachable or unkind, exactly, but hard to rattle all the same. In 'Nam, he quickly learned that anything otherwise would likely get him killed, and as such, he often thanked his army training for his ability to keep a calm and collected exterior, particularly in his present line of work. Well, more or less calm and collected, anyway. 

There were, however, few things that could trigger the old fight-or-flight like Mulder’s requests for a favor. “Yes?”

Mulder took a seat—uninvited, Skinner noted dryly—in the chair facing the desk. “I’d like a nameplate added to the door of the basement office with Agent Scully’s name.”

Well. A minor request by Mulder’s standards, that was for sure, but all the more irritating for that reason. Skinner had just spent the last two hours trying to explain the inconsistencies recorded in the San Joaquin Valley report to his higher-ups without using words like “El Chupacabra” or “Agent Mulder”, Scully was less than a week out of the hospital with some kind of tattoo-induced ergotism, and here was Mulder, fresh off a vacation, proving once again that his priorities were straight by worrying about a little interior decorating. Skinner gripped his pencil slightly harder than was necessary and took a breath before responding. Calm and collected. That was him, all right. “Agent Mulder, don’t you have anything better to be doing?”

Mulder crossed a leg and folded his hands across his stomach. He seemed to consider it. “Well, sir, I’ve got a lead on a Sasquatch sighting in D.C. My source claims to have witnessed him being held captive at the National Zoo, but so far I’m treating it with a healthy dose of skepticism as per Agent Scully’s request. Apparently he’s been trying to mate with the bison. They’ve had to cancel all the school field trips.”

_Smartass_. Skinner leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your request is duly noted. Anything else I can do for you while I’m at it? Are you running out of Post-it notes?” Standing to leave, Mulder’s lip twitched almost imperceptibly. Skinner knew that look. He narrowed his eyes. _Don’t you dare, you son of a bitch._

“Thanks for your concern, sir, but I’ve been stealing them from Agent Pendrell’s desk for years.” With a self-satisfied smile and smoothing of his tie, Mulder closed the door behind him. Skinner flung his pencil end over end at the wood, aiming approximately for the vicinity Mulder’s head had been moments before. It bounced off and landed somewhere by the window. He picked up the phone.

“Hi, Kimberly. If Agents Mulder or Scully come looking for me, I’m out of my office.” Vietnam veteran or not, Skinner wasn’t afraid to utilize some stealth tactics. You gotta know when to hold ‘em, as they say. Or fold ‘em. Whatever. “ I don’t want to see anyone from the X-Files division for the rest of the week. As a matter of fact, I don’t even want to hear the term ‘X-File’ until further notice.”

Skinner rubbed his temples. He felt another migraine coming on.


End file.
